The Philosophy of Anxiety: Understanding the Unseen
Why Philosophy is Essential to Understanding Anxiety
There are manifestations of the mind for which philosophy offers limited explanatory or practical value—but anxiety is not one of them. In contrast to the clinical frameworks of psychology or psychiatry, which often approach anxiety through specific diagnostic subtypes and case-based utility, philosophy addresses anxiety as a universal condition inherent to the human experience. In doing so, it speaks to all of us—not merely those presenting with pathological forms of anxiety.
Where psychology may offer mechanisms, and psychiatry pharmacological or diagnostic clarity, philosophy excels in elucidating the essence of anxiety: what it is, why it arises, and what it reveals about the human condition. In fact, the foundational roots of many psychotherapeutic schools trace back to philosophical traditions. Cognitive Behavioural Therapy is deeply influenced by Stoicism; Humanistic and Existential therapies are grounded in existentialist thought; mindfulness-based interventions owe much to Buddhist philosophy.
Of course, the relevance of any particular framework will depend on the specific contours of an individual's experience. However, anxiety is uniquely shaped by ambiguity—by a lack of clarity and coherence. Thus, understanding its true nature—analysing exactly what anxiety is, in a way that is often neglected and, in fact, not fully understood even by many mental health professionals—is not only deeply therapeutic, but also an essential step in reducing anxiety’s grip on our everyday lives.
Anxiety: A Clear and Detailed Exploration
Clearly conceptualising anxiety is essential, as the term often evokes a broad spectrum of mental and emotional states. This is largely because, in common usage, anxiety is frequently conflated with other distinct yet related experiences—most notably fear and stress. While fear, anxiety, and stress often coexist and may even be interdependent in certain contexts, it is crucial, when addressing these states formally, to recognise and clarify the distinctions between them.
Stress is a physiological response to perceived challenges or threats, presenting in both acute and chronic forms. It initiates a complex bodily reaction primarily governed by the autonomic nervous system (ANS). The term autonomic refers to the self-regulating nature of this system, which controls involuntary bodily functions without conscious effort. In the context of stress, the ANS orchestrates an adaptive response, mobilising the body’s resources to address the perceived threat. Although stress manifests with psychological symptoms and is influenced by individual perception and coping mechanisms, its core lies in its physiological impact. The central role of the autonomic nervous system underscores stress as fundamentally a physiological phenomenon—albeit one with significant psychological implications.
Fear can be best understood as a reaction to a specific danger that prompts an individual to make a particular adjustment or response. Fears may be rational—grounded in identifiable threats—or irrational, as seen in certain psychopathological states. For instance, in obsessive-compulsive disorder, the fears are irrational; the obsessions represent exaggerated or unfounded concerns, and the resulting compulsions constitute disproportionate attempts at resolution. In all cases, fear arises following the perception of an imminent and identifiable threat, regardless of whether that threat is located in the external environment or, in particular cases such as psychotic or obsessive disorders, within the mind itself.
Anxiety can be aptly defined by the psychologist Rollo May, who described it as “the apprehension cued off by a threat to some value that an individual holds essential to his existence as a personality.” This is a brilliant definition for its specificity, though it is not immediately straightforward to interpret—so it is worth clarifying.
In essence, what May is stating is that, whereas fear is the response to a specific threat arising in the individual’s environment, anxiety is the response to a perceived threat to the individual’s identity. The first part of his definition—“the apprehension cued off by a threat”—can be understood in more familiar terms as a state of worry caused by a threat. In an attempt to clarify this, the analogy can be likened to dominoes: with anxiety, the threat is only relevant at the outset. The perceived threat initiates a chain reaction of anxious thoughts, emotions, and a general state of heightened arousal. Yet, once this state is triggered, the original threat becomes largely irrelevant in sustaining it. Unlike fear—which subsides when the perceived threat is removed—anxiety persists, regardless of whether the initial trigger has faded in relevance.
That covers the first part of the definition. The second—“threat to some value that an individual holds essential to his existence”—addresses the essence of anxiety: its source. The internal landscape of the mind—whether conscious, subconscious, or deeper primitive drives—is inherently complex for all individuals. Defining, clarifying, and processing the underlying complexes, conflicts, drives, values, and insecurities is an arduous and ongoing task that is never fully complete. Even in periods of stability, this internal terrain remains opaque; during the heightened emotional arousal of anxiety, it becomes even less accessible. Consequently, it is often unclear precisely what within the self feels threatened, which is why anxiety is characteristically vague—the state of persistent worry lacks a clearly identifiable cause.
The Crucial Distinction Between Fear and Anxiety
To further help distinguish between fear and anxiety, consider two concrete examples—one illustrating fear in its most elemental form, the other demonstrating how what is often perceived as fear may, in fact, be more accurately understood as anxiety. This distinction is important for the simple reason that, if we wish to address or overcome these states, we must first identify precisely what they are.
First, imagine being on holiday and deciding to go for a swim. You venture slightly further than usual, turn your head, and suddenly encounter a shark. This scenario provokes fear—not primarily from a calculated assessment of potential harm, although this may contribute, but from an instinctual reaction to the situation itself. Such instinctual fear is not contingent upon the individual rationalising the potential consequences of the encounter; the response is immediate and visceral. It is here that Carl Jung’s explorations into archetypes become particularly pertinent. However, the emphasis in this instance is on the instinctual aspect of fear—an unmediated response that does not necessitate conscious deliberation over the dangers presented by the shark, even though such deliberation may also arise. This exemplifies fear in its most primal form: an automatic, hardwired reflex intended to mobilise the body to either confront or evade a specific threat.
Let us now consider the second scenario: the fear of rejection. Here we encounter a situation often misinterpreted as fear but more accurately understood as anxiety. At first glance, this appears to present a direct, identifiable threat—rejection by others, whether in romantic, social, or professional contexts. Yet closer examination reveals that the central concern is not the rejection itself, but the anticipated emotional consequences. The apprehension of feeling inadequate, lonely, ashamed, or unworthy following rejection is what characterises this response as anxiety. It is the anticipation of negative emotional states and the psychological distress they entail—rather than a specific, immediate danger to be avoided—that defines this experience.
Returning to the initial definition of anxiety—“the apprehension cued off by a threat to some value that an individual holds essential to his existence as a personality”—it becomes clear that, with anxiety, the assaults occur on a deeper level. The threats are directed towards elements that lie at the very core of the personality. Whatever specific values or constructs are perceived as under threat, what remains constant is that the danger is located within the individual’s internal landscape, and what is perceived as being attacked is regarded as essential to one’s existence and security as a personality. Here, ‘existence’ seldom refers to physical survival (such as the threat of death); rather, it more commonly denotes psychological existence—the threat of meaninglessness, the loss of freedom, or the loss of value we perceive ourselves to have in a particular area of life (e.g. the individual whose self-worth is disproportionately affected by their job performance).
Anxiety: The Fear of Fear
Ultimately, this is the crux of why anxiety can feel so unpleasant. It triggers the familiar 'fight or flight’ response, yet one cannot flee from what lies within, nor fight what one does not know. Anxiety is parasitic in this sense, in that it resides inside and feeds off the individual. However uncomfortable a fear may be, it is experienced as a threat separate from the self, arising in the environment, and to which an adjustment can—at least in theory—be made. The relation of the individual to a given object is what is important; if that object can be removed or avoided, the worry dissipates. But since anxiety attacks the core components of the personality, the individual cannot ‘stand outside’ the threat, and is thus powerless to either avoid or confront it. The individual is afraid, yet unsure of exactly what they are afraid of. This is why it is also very difficult to appreciate, from the outside, what a person in severe anxiety is experiencing. It can be likened, in this sense, to pleading with a drowning man to swim, while being entirely unaware that, beneath the water, his hands and feet are bound.
Taken directly from Rollo May’s The Meaning of Anxiety is the following excerpt: “If, however, one cannot cope with dangers in their specific forms, one will be threatened on the deeper level which we call the ‘core’ or ‘essence’ of personality. Using a military analogy, battles on various segments of the front lines represent specific threats; so long as the battle can be fought out on the periphery, so long as the dangers can be warded off in the area of the outer fortifications, the vital areas are not threatened. But when the enemy breaks through into the capital of the country, when the inner lines of communication are broken and the battle is no longer localised; when, that is, the enemy attacks from all directions and the defending soldiers do not know which way to march or where to take a stand, we have the threat of being overwhelmed, with its corollaries, panic and frantic behaviour. The latter is analogous to a threat to the basic values, the ‘inner citadel' of the personality; and in individual psychological terms it is the threat responded to as anxiety. Thus, figuratively speaking, we may describe fear as the armour against anxiety.”
Transforming Anxiety Through Clarity
The reason inquiry into anxiety is largely philosophical in nature reflects the fact that, like fear, anxiety is a completely normal experience shared by all human beings. The generally accepted view is that the capacity to experience anxiety is universal—it is innate; we are born with it. It becomes abnormal not simply because it is present, but rather due to the quality and quantity of anxiety experienced.
Recognising this places the focus not on eliminating anxiety entirely—a futile and arguably undesirable goal—but on understanding it, clarifying its nature, and addressing the factors that intensify or prolong it unnecessarily. Philosophy offers tools for this kind of exploration: it helps to illuminate the underlying structures of thought, value, and meaning that give rise to anxiety, and in doing so, can loosen its hold. By approaching anxiety in this way, we move from merely enduring it to engaging with it—transforming it from an opaque, paralysing experience into one that can be examined, understood, and, to some degree, mastered. In learning to understand anxiety, we reclaim the ability to face it—not as an enemy to be vanquished, but as a teacher revealing the truths we most need to confront about ourselves.